Entering Asia (Whats The Fuss?): Near Sarkoy to Beyond Canakale. - Lookin For John Fairweather - CycleBlaze

February 14, 2014

Entering Asia (Whats The Fuss?): Near Sarkoy to Beyond Canakale.

Once again it is a sunny morning. And after the initial leg stretching climb from where I'd camped at the bottom of a forested hill, it is all easy downhill towards the sea with land visible opposite across the strait; called the Dardanelles; its where the Marmara sea narrows to a few kilometres wide, continuing west to the Mediterranean. I thought the road ahead would like shown on the map follow the coast, but at the village of Sarkoy, the road from the roundabout turned inland again and a longish slow climb ensued. Before long, I see over on the right the pine clad hill where I camped last night. I'm almost back it seems to where I started earlier.

Emm: looks like I'm going to get wet.
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There come the descent and ahead I see highway D550, with trucks moving along from left to right and vice versa. When I reach it, its a good four-lanes with ample smooth shoulder for carefree cycling. I stop at this point in off the road on a track for a second breakfast, finishing the muesli and using the small bottle of yogurt that has been in the bag two days;, fizzing up and over flowing when I unscrew the cap.

There come another bit of an incline and ahead dark cloud moves across with a curtain of rain. On the crest of the hill I take a photo and just have the camera put away when I get splotched with big droplets of rain. I quickly put the rain-jacket on. There's a petrol station restaurant at two kilometres, shown on a billboard. I make for this sloshing along on wet sheen road. I seem to have miss the worse of it. Then riding in under the awning in front of the restaurant the sun come out again with a small rainbow beyond the road.

Inside there's a breakfast buffet laid out on a counter in the middle with white cheese, black and green olives, salad, eggs and different kinds of bread. I load my plate and the price is a reasonable twelve Turkish; though, the girl give me back ten in change for a twenty. Once I've eaten my fill and have a second then third cup of tea, I write in my notebook what has happened so far today and how it would be a good idea to learn a few words of Turkish like: yes, no, please and thank you; perhaps, the numbers one to ten and, how much. Instead of just feeling awkward when someone speaks to me.

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It is good timing to reach the ferry just as the last trucks drive on. I buy a ticket costing two-fifty for the twenty minute sailing, and push the bike on via the gangway to the side for foot-passengers. In the cafeteria I have more tea and a young man having seen me cycling asks am I cycling to Canakale. I reply I am, to which he laughs, then says it's thirty kilometres.

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Sailing by.
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In the port town the other side, I stop at a small supermarket to buy the necessary bottle of pepsi, a cake and biscuits. This will do me for supper and first thing in the morning.

The thirty kilometres to Canakale are on a straight four lane highway, six if you count the shoulders, and seems to be mostly uphill. Though it is a Spring day. The sun shining and pink blossoms on fruit trees, with a view of the Dardanelles straits on the right. The sun is setting as I reach Canakale, a large town with either side built up for more than ten kilometres. On the other side I'm glad to see woodland start immediately. It is fenced at the road, but I turn along a side road and cycle for about half a kilometre with the wood on rising ground on the left and an occasion house on the right where a dog barks. I eventually come to a small gap in the fence and push the bike through. There's a trail I follow upwards to the hilltop where there's an open level spot, ideal for camping with an underlay of thin grass and pine-needles.

Spring.
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Looking for a place to camp with a dawn alarm call.
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Today's ride: 89 km (55 miles)
Total: 10,574 km (6,566 miles)

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